


The Pickety Witch

by Ornament_of_Rhyme



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989), Sleepy Hollow (1999)
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Hollow Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornament_of_Rhyme/pseuds/Ornament_of_Rhyme
Summary: The ride was long, and the sleep scarce, but at last the Andersons arrived in Sleepy Hollow.





	The Pickety Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

As his family waited at the door, Todd tried to ignore the impassioned couple who writhed in the deepest shadows of the porch, but it was difficult when in the hush of the still night, even the faintest of noises carried. The only sounds to rival that of their embrace was the song of the crickets, and the wall-muted merriment and music inside the house.

 

Still, that was not enough. He kept his eyes firmly on the planks beneath his feet. The same could not be said for his brother, who watched without shame.

 

Finally, the door opened, allowing golden light to spill over them, along with the sweet scent of cider. Todd's father spoke for them.

 

This house—the Perry estate, he would do well to remember—was the most opulent in all of Sleepy Hollow. On a hillock it sat, set apart and above the rest.

 

Following his father, and then his brother, Todd stepped into the home. The heat of fire and light and lively company thawed the chill which had set in amidst the carriage ride, and then progressed during the damp walk through town.

 

As the door closed behind him, Todd first noticed the bright orange jack o' lanterns which sat squat on every surface, simpering at the party guests as candles crackled within their bellies. Among them were candelabras and platters of food.

 

People—women, children, and men—milled about, chatting with one another, while fiddlers sawed away in one corner.

 

Todd followed along, as was his job, while his father and brother traded greetings with some men among the company.

 

In the room off to the side stood a rough circle of people. He looked on just in time to see a blonde young woman, blindfolded, take a similarly aged boy by the wrist and peck a kiss on his cheek.

 

“You can't give your kiss to him,” snapped a tall boy across the circle, “he's your fiance!”

 

“I believe that is exactly the reason I can,” she said, slipping off the blindfold. “And you are supposed to allow me to guess his identity, Chet.”

 

“Todd,” said his brother, drawing his attention back to their business.

 

“They will be but a moment. In the mean time, if you would allow me to introduce you to the elders,” a wig-capped man said to his father. He led them to the corner of the fiddlers, where a trio of other men sat with drinks. They looked the Andersons over with no small amount of wariness and distrust. As was the norm.

 

A commotion from the circle of people, closer now, turned Todd's head.

 

“Neil! Neil!” many of the young people cheered, and a lanky boy with brown hair allowed himself to be pushed into the circle. The blonde girl from before tied the blindfold over his eyes and set about spinning him in what should have been a nauseating amount of circles.

 

Once released, the boy stumbled only for a moment. Then he curled his fingers like a shriveled hag, and adopted a matching voice as he chanted, _“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch. Who's got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?”_

 

The other teens circled him and laughed at his theatrics as they dodged his reaching claws. _“Pickety Witch, Pickety Witch. Who's got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?”_ he repeated in that shrill tone.

 

“Toddrick,” hissed a voice an arm's reach away. His eyes widened when he saw it was his father this time, giving him a look of disapproval. “Keep up.”

 

This time they moved into the room crowded with the ring of people. His father and brother skirted by the tightest spot between the crowd and the fireplace, but before he could do the same, Todd was grabbed. Startled, he stopped in his tracks.

 

“ _Who have I caught in my twitchy-witchy trap?”_ said the boy in the blindfold.

 

He turned Todd to him, then his hands came up to feel over Todd's face. _“Why it's none other than—“_ The boy stopped, and what could be seen of his dark brows disappeared beneath the blindfold, furrowing in focus.

 

For his part, Todd could only flush and gawk. All the eyes in the room were on the two of them. The boy brushed his thumb over Todd's brow, the bridge of his nose, and the curve of his cheeks.

 

When next he spoke, the blindfolded boy dropped the exaggerated voice in favor of what must have been his true timbre, natural and warm as it was.

 

“Perhaps an angel has appeared before me,” he said. When Todd found no response, the boy lifted off his blindfold, revealing eyes the color of hazelnuts. The completed picture was one Todd could feel imprinting on his memory. In all their travels, not the images drawn by the clouds at day or stars at night, nor the sunlight dancing on the clearest stream had reached into Todd quite so deep.

 

“It _is_ an angel,” the boy said, with a foreign tinge to his tone. Were it directed at anyone else, Todd would have named it awe.

 

Finally, Todd found his voice. “I—I'm afraid you're mistaken.” He cursed his stutter. “I've no more grace than a newborn fawn.”

 

“There is grace in modesty,” replied the boy.

 

“Forgive my son,” said Todd's father, nearing. “We are looking for Thomas Perry.”

 

“I am his son, Neil Perry,” said the boy. His hands moved down to Todd's shoulders. “And you?”

 

Todd opened his mouth to answer, compelled by those dark eyes, but his father spoke first.

 

“I am Detective Andrew Anderson. This,” he gestured to Todd's brother, “is my son and pupil, Jeffrey Anderson. We have been sent to investigate murder in Sleepy Hollow.”

 

After a beat wherein the man did not go on, Neil asked Todd again, “And you? Or shall I call you by angel?”

 

“Todd—Toddrick Anderson,” he answered.

 

As if he only just realized he skipped an introduction, Todd's father did have the decency to look embarrassed.

 

“Ah!” Everyone looked 'round to see a man and a woman enter the room. Only then did Neil remove his hands from Todd entirely.

 

“Welcome, honored guests,” said the man to Todd's father. “We have just overheard your introduction from down the hall. I am Thomas Perry, and this is my wife, Martha. Please, come with me, gentlemen. We will get you settled.”

 

Reluctantly, Todd trailed behind his brother, leaving the bewitching Neil behind.

 

What followed was business as usual for the seasoned Anderson men. Well, save for the bit about the headless horseman.

 

 

_ϟ ϟ ϟ_

 

 

Later, when the sky was inky black and light came only from fire in its many confinements, the Andersons could be found outside, with Todd settled on the steps of the Perry home, and his brother and father discussing the case a distance away in the field, noticeable only by the lanterns they carried.

 

Todd idly fiddled with his own lantern of sorts—one of the jack o' lanterns left on the porch—feeding stray bits of grass through its sweaty-toothed grin and into the flame.

 

Behind him, the front door opened, and he jumped, causing him to slip up and singe his finger in the hot candle wax.

 

“I apologize,” said a voice, one over which Todd had been trying not tarry. He looked aside in time to see Neil Perry sit beside him. He took Todd's injured hand and held it up to the light, assessing it. “I did not mean to startle you.”

 

“It's nothing,” assured Todd, but he couldn't bring himself to retrieve his hand.

 

Gently, Neil peeled the white wax from Todd's finger. The pain was fading fast, but he could feel the fingertip pulsing.

 

“Thank you,” he said when Neil released his hand.

 

The other boy smiled, a winsome thing in this light and all, Todd was certain.

 

Then he remembered himself. “Shall I take leave of you?”

 

Neil's smile fell, replaced with confusion. “Why would I ask you to leave when I have so deliberately sought you out?”

 

“You were looking for me?”

 

“Yes,” the handsome boy chuckled. “I have yet to give you your kiss.”

 

“My kiss?” Todd stammered, as though he could forget.

 

“I captured you, did I not?”

 

 _Utterly_ , thought Todd.

 

Neil's hand rose to Todd's face. He tried to turn his head, thinking Neil would aim for his cheek, but the boy held him still as he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Todd's lips.

 

Pulling away, Neil said quietly, “A one of a kind kiss; my first.”

 

“ _You waste it on me,”_ Todd wanted to say, but for once could not dredge up the self-loathing. His face was hot, his fingertip seemed to throb harder, and all his focus was divided between the lingering sensation of Neil's kiss, and the boy himself.

 

For his part, Neil showed a faint blush as well, but did not share the same loss for words.

 

“Tomorrow, will you allow me to show you our village?” Neil asked.

 

Jerkily, Todd nodded.

 

Neil lit up. “Wonderful!” He got to his feet. “You'll not regret it. I know every inch of this land.”

 

The brown haired boy climbed the few stairs back to the doorstep. “Please come inside soon. The horseman prefers to hunt at night.”

 

Todd nodded, though he did not believe such a superstition.

 

Neil continued, “You are welcome to our home. Sleep well, Toddrick.” With a pleased and elfish grin, he returned to his house.

 

“...Good night, Neil.”

 


End file.
